LipGloss: Black, White and Silver
by Erissa
Summary: A story mainly about Yazoo, Kadaj and Yuffie. NonFF world. No Mary Sues. Starts out in a high school, but is not a high school fic. [Abandoned, don't read!]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **The plot and setting doesn't follow that of the movie or the game, so if you don't like that kind of stuff, don't read it, there's no need to complain about it. This is my first ever written and published fan fiction, so constructive criticisms will be very much appreciated. I hope it isn't too horrible. I have never been able to write a fan fiction before, but after being a member of this site for three years I thought I'd give it a try.

**Disclaimer: **Nothing except the plot belongs to me. All characters belong to Square Enix, so don't sue me. I have no money anyway. **:P

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**Lip-gloss: Black, White and Silver**

**_Chapter 1- It All Starts In the Morning_**

The first light of day had begun to hit the horizon, streaking in through the curtain less window and hitting the eyes of a certain silver haired youth. His eyelids fluttered and over the course of a few minutes he gradually opened his eyes. He turned sideways and glanced at the alarm clock. It was 5.27 a.m and school only starts at eight.

Finding that he was unable to go back to sleep, Yazoo groggily stood up and began to stretch himself. Even though the air conditioner was on, the air was warm and stifling. Yazoo headed towards the bathroom, glad at the prospect of having a cold shower.

The bathroom was dark, but he had no trouble locating the light switch on the left side of the washbasin. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror and was delighted to see that his face had a healthy glow and was free of acnes. Feeling satisfied, he made his way to the shower.

After an invigorating shower Yazoo slipped into a pair of dark blue jeans and put on a crisp white blouse. The clothes together with his long, shiny hair accentuated his already lean figure. He hastily tidied up his study desk; putting pens and highlighters that were strewn all over the table into his pencil case; grabbing books that he'll be needing for today and dumping it into his sling bag.

Yazoo went outside and walked towards the living room, not at all surprised to find Uncle Vincent sitting outside in the balcony, staring at his laptop that was resting on a round coffee table, a hot mug of coffee lying beside it.

"Good morning Uncle Vin," he greeted, smiling softly.

"Morning," Uncle Vin replied, eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No thanks, I'm fine." This time he glanced up for a fraction of a second, his eyes meeting Yazoo's, before returning to the computer screen again.

Yazoo nodded, flung his school bag on the blood red sofa and briskly walked towards the kitchen.

Uncle Vincent was of course not Yazoo's real uncle. As far as he knew he had no blood-related family or relatives to speak of. His mother Jenova had suffered from post-natal depression and had committed suicide less than a year after he was born. Sephiroth, his father, was a deranged psychopath who blames Yazoo for his mother's death and had proceeded to physically and emotionally abuse him for over seven years.

Life with a mentally ill father was not easy. Yazoo was often starved and locked up in the storeroom when Sephiroth was in a bad mood. That was mild compared to all those times Sephiroth had doused him with cold water and force him to stand outside for hours during winter, made him eat dog food or beat him up with a broom.

Yazoo still cringes whenever he recalls his early childhood days. Try as he might, he could not forget Sephiroth's face, voice and presence. He was fortunate that Vincent Valentine had came to the rescue. Vincent Valentine or Uncle Vincent as Yazoo called him, is a successful screenwriter as well as a member of the Anti-Child Abuse Movement. Vincent had been involved in the investigation against Sephiroth; helping to gather enough proof and witnesses to lock Sephiroth behind bars and free Yazoo.

After the trial, Yazoo was temporarily placed in the care of Vincent, but it wasn't long before he fell in love with the lovely child with emerald green eyes and adopted him as his own son. Once he was part of the family, Yazoo couldn't continue calling Vincent Mr. Valentine, but he found that he couldn't bring himself to call him "daddy" either because it reminded him so much of Sephiroth (anyway Vincent himself seemed uncomfortable with it) so it has been "Uncle Vin" since then.

But these things were not on Yazoo's mind as he made himself a ham and cheese croissant and gulped it down in less than ten minutes. He dashed to the living room, grabbed his bag, shouted a cheerful "bye Uncle Vin" and without waiting for a reply opened the front door. He waited impatiently for the lift to reach the seventeenth floor and promptly pressed the number twelve button once the door opened and he had gotten inside.

The door to #12-02 was opened by a stunningly beautiful young woman with long cascading black hair. She was wide awake and was wearing a white tank top and light blue sweatpants.

"Hello Yazoo, you're earlier than usual today! He's still inside, fast asleep. Come in!" she said, smiling warmly as she let him in and close the front door.

"I'm sorry Tifa, I just thought we could avoid being late today," he replied, returning her smile.

"Okay you do what you have to do, I have some work to finish," she half-teased him as she strolled back towards her room.

Yazoo opened the room door to find Kadaj's face buried face down on the pillow, his head half covered by the blanket. To an unsuspecting stranger it would seem that he was dead, but Yazoo knew better.

"Wake up you sleepyhead!" he shouted at he top of his voice as he yanked the blanket away from Kadaj's body.

Kadaj was making loud unintelligible noises as he covered his head with the pillow.

"Come on, we have to pick up Yuffie at seven fifteen and I really don't want to be late again".

"What…time…?" he muttered sleepily.

"Six o' clock, so you better hurry!"

"…too early…you crazy…?"

"Well that's because you always take your own sweet time and dilly-dally. Now hurry up!" he said, snatching the pillow away from Kadaj.

"Yazoo…five more minutes…please," he begged, sheltering his face with a mop of silver hair and his left hand, while the other hand served as a pillow.

Yazoo was not one who gives up easily. He pulled his friend by the leg and dragged him down to the floor. Kadaj squealed like a stung pig and scrunched up his face in irritation.

"Fine! You win!" he grumbled, beating the sides of his head to wake himself up. He scrambled to his feet and staggered towards the wardrobe. Rummaging through the mess of clothes, he pulled out a black T-shirt with a drawing of Thierry Henry and a black pair of fitting jeans.

"I'm going to change now, so do you mind," he said, his head motioning towards the door.

"Aren't you going to take a shower first?" Yazoo asked, incredulous.

"Aww, but I don't like taking showers in the morning. You know I can't stand the cold!" he whined.

"Well you have to if you want to sit next to me!" he ordered, pulling Kadaj by the arm and dragging him to the bathroom. "Make it a fast one!"

Kadaj complied without further protest, his eyelids still half closed as he shut the bathroom door.

Knowing Kadaj was incapable of taking quick showers; he settled himself down on a swivel chair and started surveying Kadaj's desk to past time. Lying on the middle of the desk was Kadaj's dog-eared Physics textbook and his half-done Physics homework. His mobile phone, i-pod and digicam lay on top of a pile of paper and files. The desk was very much cluttered; with things such as shoelaces, key chains and candy wrappers scattered all around.

About thirty minutes later Kadaj was done; Yazoo had made sure he knocked on the bathroom door every five minutes to make sure Kadaj had not fell asleep in the bathroom, something that has happened quite often.

"So did you enjoy playing with the water?" Yazoo asked with a tinge of sarcasm.

"Shut up!" Kadaj snapped half-jokingly, pouting his lips.

* * *

"Bye bye nèsan!" Kadaj chirped before giving Tifa an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Tifa returned the kiss with a soft pat on his head. "Be careful okay! I'll see you in the evening! Bye Yazoo!" She has an air of feminine tenderness without being too motherly.

Kadaj and Tifa has one of the closest brother-sister relationship Yazoo has ever seen, even though sometimes Kadaj enjoys too much being the pampered baby brother.

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The sleek, silver Lamborghini sled to a halt in front of the Kisaragi Residence. Yazoo honked the horn twice and in less than a minute a slim, energetic, dark haired girl ran out of the front door; her bob cut hair swaying from side to side.

"Hello pretty Zazzo! Good morning Kada-choo!" she greeted them with her usual grin, before delivering a pretty hard whack on Kadaj's back as a form of affection. Kadaj who was still finishing his sandwich, nearly choked, but Yuffie seemed oblivious to it. "You guys are early today!"

"All thanks to me! And please don't ever call me Zazzo again! It makes me sound like a bloody bird!" Yuffie has the bad habit of creating weird nicknames for her friends, much to the annoyance of both Kadaj and Yazoo.

"Oh don't be angry now! It only makes you prettier! Hahaha," Yuffie laughed as she jumped into the car.

Yazoo scowled in response, ignoring Kadaj who was still coughing.

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The trio was twenty minutes early for the first time in months; the silver convertible passing through the towering black gates of Shinra Academy.

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**A/N: **Phew, I hope that wasn't too unbearable. I feel bad about putting Yazoo through such torture under Sephiroth (hugs poor Yazoo). Feedbacks and suggestions about characters, plot, my writing, etc, are very much welcomed. Remember this is my first time, so please be nice. I intend for this story to be light-hearted, but if any of you would like to see more of a certain genre, I'll consider it. Also note that even though I use well-known car brands, all car models are fictional. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thank you to all my reviewers. Sorry for the late update, but I've been busy with various things. I know from the first chapter and the next few chapters this fic. is going to seem like another high-school fic, but I assure you it's not going to be. I have to set their backgrounds and daily life first before things starts to happen, so if you'll just kindly bear with me I'll try my best to make it worth your while.

**To anon. delavega: your question is going to be answered in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: **Nothing except the story and ideas belong to me. If I own anything remotely famous, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this fanfict.

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**Lip-gloss: Black, White and Silver**

**_Chapter 2- And Then There Were Three_**

Shinra Academy is a high security private school attended by the children of some of the richest, most famous and highly influential people in the country; everyone from high-ranking politicians to business moguls to high-end fashion designers; its building so white it was offensive; a feat that no doubt was accomplished by the hard labour of minimum-wage workers.

There was only one way in and out of Shinra and it was through the tall, electric black gates guarded by several highly trained security personnel carrying rifles and bomb detectors. Before entering the school, students have to pass through a metal detector, have their bags thoroughly checked and flash their student ID cards in front of a card reader.

They were currently undergoing one of the many security checks at Shinra, something that Kadaj find highly annoying.

"Hiya I have a bomb shoved up my ass, would you like to check it?" Kadaj shouted at one of the security personnel while their car was being probed with a bomb detector. The man maintained his stoic expression, pretending to hear nothing.

"Can you please not say stuff like that!" exclaimed Yuffie. "You're making yourself sound like a prat!"

"Which he is," Yazoo added, giving Kadaj a dirty look.

"Hey I was just trying to lighten up the mood. Seriously these people see us almost everyday for like what…over ten years, and they still act as if we are potential murderers," he explained.

"It's their job!" Yuffie said through gritted teeth. "Besides you could have said something less rude. Like…hello I'm carrying a bomb, I'm a terrorist!"

"That isn't even funny!"

"Neither was yours!" chided Yazoo.

The school was owned and headed by Rufus Shinra, an attractive man in his early thirties who apparently had a Master's degree in Education and Child Psychology. Mr. Shinra appears to be a calm, firm yet caring, well-mannered man, but Yazoo was no fool; Rufus Shinra neither cared about the well-being of the students nor the education of young minds. His father had set up the school for the purpose of making money and building important connections, and Rufus Shinra was no better.

The purpose of flashing the ID cards, besides confirming the identity of the students, was to take attendance. Latecomers, instead of being given detention or demerit points, were fined fifty dollars per offence. This, however, did not seem to succeed in raising the punctuality rate. Rufus Shinra was, not surprisingly, not too concerned about the lack of discipline, although he did talk about the possibility of raising fines for repeat offenders.

Uncle Vincent didn't think sending Yazoo to a public school would be a good idea; having normal, stressed out teenagers with frustrated single parents and financial problems around him, and possibly encountering school bullies, could prove detrimental to his then already fragile emotional and psychological health; possibly turning him into a troubled teen. Yazoo couldn't see how putting him in a private school full of arrogant, spoilt brats who has never lifted a finger to do a single chore in their life was any better, but he thought he hadn't turned out too badly, so maybe Uncle Vincent was right.

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Yazoo entered the school building; Kadaj and Yuffie were slightly ahead of him, walking side by side. He found the cold, artificial air that hit his face gratifying: it had been blistering hot outside. His ears were immediately filled with the buzzing sound of noisy chattering. Hardly anyone was alone; students were walking around in groups; occasionally greeting someone they knew from another group. A few of them were followed closely by one or two men in black suits or as Yuffie like to call them, "The Men in Black".

Yazoo felt like how he felt everyday since the first day he stepped into Shinra Academy-out of place. He was nineteen and instead of being in his second year of college, he was here, in his senior year of high school, drowning amidst a bunch of seventeen year olds. _It was all Sephiroth's fault! _

Sephiroth didn't sent him to school; preferring him to stay at home; working like a slave and facing the far end of his cruelty. The slack in enforcing compulsory education laws allowed such abuse to persist.

Yazoo remembered his first day of school. It was a day very much like this. He was only eight then.

It took place in a completely different part of the school building; the part which housed elementary school students. Yazoo clutched his school bag, as though his very life depended on it. He bit his lower lip and stood like a statue at the far corner of the entrance hall; glancing at his clothes and feet every few minutes, half-expecting heads to turn and give him unwelcoming looks. But nobody seemed to notice him, and he continued to stand there, feeling as though the whole world had embarked on a journey and he had been left behind.

Just when it looked like he was going to stand there until the teacher came and looked for him, something caught his eyes. Something silver, very much like the colour of his hair, whizzing through the crowd. Curiosity got the better of him and without much thought he jogged towards it.

That something silver turned out to be hair: its owner a boy that could not be more than six years old. The boy had bright, piercing green eyes, the kind that made your very soul vibrate. His cheeks were chubby and had a natural pink tinge. This was well complimented by his small, baby pink lips. In comparison, Yazoo's face was pallid and his body was skeletal thin, yet there was no denying the resemblance between them.

Without realising it, he had gaped at the boy, as though he had witnessed something breathtaking. There was an awkward silence before the boy finally spoke.

"Uh…are you lost or something?" he asked, his eyes now staring straight into Yazoo's.

Not knowing what else to say Yazoo answered, "Err…ya I think so".

"Are you in grade one?" the boy inquired further, not taking his eyes off Yazoo's. It was the middle of the second term and the boy must have guessed that he was a new student.

"Uhm…yeah," he answered hesitantly, bowing his head slightly and breaking their eye contact. The boy, however, did not seem to think it was strange and Yazoo could only guess why: he was tiny for his age and was only about an inch taller than the boy.

"Okay, let's go find your class!" he said with an air of finality; and without warning had grabbed Yazoo's right hand with his left and began to run. Yazoo had a hard time keeping up. His knees felt weak and his stomach was growling. He was so anxious he hadn't bothered having breakfast.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before they reached the corridor where the first grade classrooms were. The boy continued to pull him by the hand and together they entered the second classroom on the left.

"Mrs. Doubtfire, this boy is lost! He said he's in grade one-I think he's a new student," the boy reported, with such an authority Yazoo had never seen in a six year old before. Not that he had seen many six year olds, so maybe it was normal.

The woman, Mrs. Doubtfire, who Yazoo concluded must be the teacher, looked away from the pieces of coloured papers she was cutting and studied him. She was plump, probably close to sixty and her face was heavily powdered; but behind that round, gold-rimmed glasses, her eyes were warm.

"What is your name dear?" she asked.

"Yazoo", he replied, barely audible.

"Hmm…Yazoo…Yazoo," she muttered to herself, "Yazoo Valentine?"

He nodded. That name sounded so strange to his ears.

"Of course…you're the new student they were talking about…how could I forget…ah well…getting old I suppose," she said, more to herself than anything. "Welcome to Shinra Yazoo! As it so happens, you are in my class. I'm glad you've met Kadaj. Now Kadaj here is a very nice boy and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to show you around. Am I right Kadaj?"

The boy named Kadaj beamed with pride and nodded his head vigorously.

"Ah well, that's settled then. The two of you can sit together in the third row."

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Yazoo stared at the piece of paper; cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, as though that piece of paper carried a message of imminent doom. The teacher had told them to draw a picture of their family and before passing it up they were supposed to write their names.

He tapped Kadaj's shoulder with a finger, like it was some kind of window. The other boy looked up and gazed at him.

"Uhm…" He took a deep breath. "Do you think you could help me…" His voice seemed to die away on its own.

"Well maybe, it depends. What kind of help do you need?" he asked, a look of confusion painted on his face.

"Do you think…is it possible…I mean, would you be willing to help me write down my name?" _Oh no, here comes the questions. Here comes the questions. Surely, he's going to tease me. And then he's going to tell everyone how dumb I am._

"Sure! Why not!" There was no sign of mockery in his face and before Yazoo could get over his shock at this lack of hostility, Kadaj had grabbed the paper with the drawing of himself and Uncle Vincent and had wrote something on it.

"There you go! I hope that's right," he said, smiling as he gave the paper back to him.

"Thank you." He managed a half-smile; he wasn't used to people being nice to him. He was about to sit down and mind his own business when he heard Kadaj calling him

"Hey Yazoo."

"Yeah?"

"Do you want a Mentos?"

"Huh?" Kadaj seemed to take this as a 'yes'. He took Yazoo's hand and covered it with his own. Yazoo noticed that his hand was chubby; it had not lost its baby features; he felt the softness and warmth from it diffusing through his veins. When he finally removed his hand, there lay a round, white candy wrapped in blue and transparent plastic.

"You can have more if you like, I have more in my bag."

Yazoo nodded, but said nothing. It was one of those small gestures you do as a child; the ones grown-ups usually see as something of little significance; and Yazoo didn't understand why, but he felt like crying.

It had took about another two months before Yazoo was able to decipher what Kadaj had written and be on par with the rest of his classmates. There it was, written in childish scrawl, the name "Yazu" on the top right-hand corner of the paper and the words "Me and My Family" on top of the drawing of him and Uncle Vincent. Yazoo hated to admit that he was sentimental, but to this very day that piece of paper, together with the empty Mentos wrapper, is tucked neatly under a clear plastic folder in his drawer.

* * *

He sat there, on a bench in the school park. Uncle Vincent was late. Again. But it was expected. He was, after all, a very busy man. It doesn't matter. He didn't like staying at home anyway. He had enough of that for over eight years. The view was much better outside.

Kadaj had gone home. His nanny had been waiting outside the entrance door before the school bell had even rung. Over the course of a few weeks, he and Kadaj had become inseparable and thanks to that, school was no longer dreadful. But with Kadaj's absence, there was nothing to do but sit there and admire the scenery, away from everyone else.

A pair of yellow butterflies were flying nearby; fluttering their wings as they circle a bush of gaudy orange flowers. Yazoo immersed himself in watching their movements, wondering what it was like to be able to fly, thinking that life would had been so much easier if he was a pretty butterfly.

_He was dancing in the air; the scent of the flowers threatening to put him into a deep slumber; there were fairies; their wings emitting tiny dots of light as they zoomed around him and_-BAM!

The sound was followed by a high, ear-splitting scream, startling Yazoo and banishing his daydream of butterflies and fairies. About twenty feet away a girl was crouching down on the pavement, hugging her leg in agony. By the looks of it, she had fallen from a tree!

Yazoo ran to the scene as fast as he could and crouched down beside her. He couldn't see her face, but she was fair and her hair was shiny and black.

"Hey are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

The girl did not answer, but moved her head slightly and bit her lower lip; a pained expression portrayed on her face. And then he saw it, and backed away immediately. She had grazed her right knee badly and the skin was raw and bloody.

Voices began to fill his head: Sephiroth's maniacal laughter; the cries of kittens, squirrels, and rabbits before they were skinned alive; the dull thud of the knife as it hits the chopping board. Then there was that fishy, nauseating smell of blood and the putrid odour of the garbage bin where parts of the dead animals were thrown. Yazoo thought he was going to be sick; any moment now; he was already shaking all over and was clutching the sides of his head, as if an invisible creature was tormenting him.

Without warning a pair of arms swooped down on him, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"You're scared of blood aren't you? Don't worry, it's nothing really! Just a little bit painful but nothing serious. It's my own fault. I was careless you see and had missed my footing. Luckily I hadn't climbed up that high yet." Her voice was filled with excitement, as though she was narrating a deadly adventure. She continued, "My housekeeper, she's scared of blood too you know! Can't cook anything that involves animals. Thank goodness we have a chef, or else we'll be stuck eating vegetables. You do hate vegetables don't you?" She seemed to be saying all these in one breath, but apparently, she wasn't done yet. "Anyway as I was saying, there's nothing to be scared about. Come on, let's go up to the school! I'll buy you a drink so that you can calm yourself down. What about a smoothie? Do you like smoothies? I love those berry-flavoured ones. And then we can go and wash my knee and see the school nurse so that she can put some medicine and a plaster. You know they have these cute little plasters with red elephants on them…bla bla bla."

Yazoo thought she was pretty irritating, but for some reason he didn't want her to stop talking, if that even made sense. Those horrible images were now gone; somehow he had stopped shaking; the unpleasant stench had been replaced by the fragrance of lavender baby powder, and Yazoo found his heart beating faster and faster…

* * *

"Kadaj, meet my new friend, Yuffie. She's from 1C. I got to know her yesterday after school."

"Hey! I know you! You're the one who stole my giraffe keychain!" Kadaj's green eyes were flashing dangerously.

"Oh yeah? Prove it!" Yuffie hissed.

"It was missing right after break and the next day I saw it dangling from your bag! The exact same one!"

"So you think you're the only one who can afford a giraffe keychain?"

"No! But I got mine overseas and it was a limited edition!"

"Well I fly overseas too you doofus! I bet you're lying. You just want my real one because what you've got is a cheap imitation!"

"Guys, guys, please…" Yazoo tried to break up the fight but was conveniently ignored.

"Yazoo, I don't care! I disapprove of your new girlfriend! She's ugly anyway!"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Yazoo retaliated, this time louder than his usual self.

"Speak for yourself you green-eyed, grey-haired freak!"

At this, the two boys shouted in unison. "IT'S SILVER!"

At that point, none of them knew that they were going to be stuck together for a long, long time…

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**A/N:** Uggh I felt highly disturbed when I wrote that part about Sephiroth and the animals. Just so you know, I wanted to puke myself. As usual, suggestions and constructive criticisms are welcomed. 


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